Time Heals All Wounds
by RestinParadise
Summary: They say time heals all wounds, but what if that wound could never truly heal? If you had the chance to change a horrific accident, would you? If you could fix the one thing that could potentially destroy your family, would you? I did. OC. Oneshot.


_**Time Heals All Wounds**_

_They say time heals all wounds, but what if it that wound never truly healed? If you had the chance to change a horrific accident, would you? If you could fix the one thing that could potentially destroy your family, would you? If you could prevent a wound, by making a less painful one would you? I did. _

**Disclaimer: the only thing I own in this is Arabella. Everything else is JK Rowling and a quote from _How I Met Your Mother_.**

**(A/N: Something I believe fits with this story…I didn't like how Charlie Weasley was essentially cut out from the seventh book and movie, so I added him in (: **

If someone were to ask me where I would be at the age of twenty, my answer would have never been heading to stand over one of my twin brother's graves. My answer probably would have been, "a dragon trainer like my older brother Charlie." I would've travelled to Romania and lived my dream, as I had always believed I would. At the age of twenty, I would've had my entire family back in England as I trained the wild beasts like Charlie. As it's probably obvious, out of my seven siblings I looked up to him the most. Even as I was the twin sister of two of the greatest pranksters known to wizarding kind, jokes and pranks never really were my forte.

Growing up, I'd always wanted to be like Charlie; wanting to live life to its fullest and feel the thrill of everything life had to offer. However, in order for me to do so I had to complete my education first so I could do so without problem. At least that's what Charlie told me when I wrote to him about wanting to drop out along side Fred and George during our seventh year. I didn't want to be stuck with Umbridge at Hogwarts without them. In all honesty, they were the only things in the world that could possibly cheer me up after hours of detention with her just for being a Weasley. Forever the words _I will not be like my brothers _will be carved into my left hand. Stupid bloody toad assumed too much.

I anxiously awaited his response. When the owls finally brought in our mail I tore open the letter he sent back to me after I wrote asking if his boss needed an extra hand tending to the wild beasts he so fortunately got the opportunity to train. His response said he would never allow me to put myself in a position where I wouldn't have any other options in life if training dragons wasn't what I had really wanted to do. Naturally, I wrote back saying I was _absolutely_ sure that it was what I wanted, and why shouldn't I be allowed to do what I wanted to when Fred and George were dropping out as well to start their own joke shop. As much as I admired and love them to bits, I thought, at that time, that perhaps dropping out at that specific moment wasn't the wisest thing to do, especially in starting a prank shop considering the circumstance. No one was able to laugh, especially with Umbridge around. Or at least that's what I _thought._

Of course I always knew that the only things my two physical male equivalents were extremely dedicated to was their jokes, pranks, and being able to create a laugh even when no one wanted to, so I was extremely proud of them when they were successful with opening Weasley's Wizards Wheezes. The opening of their shop was the proudest I'd ever been for them in our lives and they were only eighteen.

However, when they both left the school among the screams of joy from myself, our two younger siblings, our friends, just about every other student left at Hogwarts, and the bangs from the fireworks they'd set off, I was stuck at school waiting for the moment where I could leave that now dreadful place too. Hogwarts wasn't the same anymore, especially without them.

So after completing my final term at Hogwarts, with Dad getting hurt, the death of Sirius Black (may he rest in peace), the return of Voldemort, the death of Dumbledore, and the discovery of Severus Snape as a traitor to the Order, I had decided that perhaps dragon training wasn't in my immediate future. Yes, it was still my dream and I fully intended to go into training for it once the war was settled and done, but I had decided to help Fred and George in their shop first. With the war beginning I had wanted to spend as much time with my siblings as I possibly could. Thus, the strain on my dreams had begun. However, I didn't regret it. Fred and George always knew how to keep a smile on our faces, even if they didn't want to keep one on their own all the time.

Fred was scared. He knew that it was highly likely that Weasley's Wizards Wheezes would be attacked. It was one of the only shops in Diagon Alley to be left standing and death eaters weren't going to exclude theirs just because it was _funny_. Add to the fact that all us Weasleys were proud, how would you say, "blood traitors" well, you get the picture. Admitting that to George, however, was something he wouldn't do, he told me. To Fred, George was _the_ _most_ important thing. "It's different with us, Belle." He tried to explain to me once when we were younger. "Whenever something happens to us, we see it happening to ourselves. We look exactly the same. So if something makes George upset or makes George happy, or anything, I am too, because it's my face it's happening to. Just like when we finish each other's sentences. We already know what we're trying to say. It's not that we love you any less; it's just that we know when something is hurting you or making you happy cause we can see it play out on your face, but if something is happening to me, George knows exactly cause he can read the emotions that _could _be on his face, in mine and feels it." He looked quite confused himself and I'm sure I had my own look of bewilderment as well. Understandably, we were only twelve and a half at the time. Nonetheless he continued, "Arabella I think the only way I can describe it is this…when it comes to stuff like that, it's like we're the same person." And then I got it.

After Bill's wedding and Ron left with Harry and Hermione, I talked to Fred once more about how he felt about the circumstances we were in. He was terrified, as he should have been, but I never wanted to see that look on his face. The look of terror and worry and confusion etched upon his skin. Like he was questioning why we had to fight for the lives we had a right to, and more than anything I wanted to answer him just so I could take the expression away. So I could ease the pain he never deserved to have.

"What if something happens to us Belle," He whispered worriedly as we sat quietly in the living room late at night once he was sure everyone else had long been asleep. Seated in the overly stuffed sofa in front of the fireplace, I stared at his concerned face sitting cross-legged beside him, the only other sound the flames cracking above the burning wood. "What if one of us dies in this? What are we meant to do then? We're a family, this isn't supposed to happen to us." Wringing his hands in his lap. "We're only twenty! We're supposed to grow old and grey and have happy memories! Not fight in a bloody war where we have to defend ourselves just for living and liking the people that we do. Why does blood even _matter_?" he asked exasperatedly and shoved his face into his palms. And I wished to Merlin I could answer that question. But I couldn't. I just lunged out and hugged him and told him everything would happen the way it was supposed to. Because if there's a god somewhere out there then things will happen according to the way he or she plans it to and if we die then we die for something we knew was worth dying for. I held him tightly that night as we both fell asleep on the couch with tears in our eyes hoping like hell we'd survive this.

The night before the battle I was scared to death, the conversation with Fred replaying over and over in my mind. What if something _did _happened to one of us? I couldn't bear it if I was forced to watch as one of my family members was lowered into the ground and I'd never see them again. What if it was mum or dad, or Bill or Fleur, Ron, Ginny, Charlie or even Percy? What if it were Fred or George? Could I live life afterwards watching as the only people who would love me unconditionally were lowered into the ground never to be seen again? Could I do it? Could anyone?

I pondered this as I walked down the stairs into the kitchen, carefully avoiding the especially creaky stairs. George and Fred were both asleep in their old bedroom, coming home for the last few nights before we knew we had to go to Hogwarts for the battle. However, I didn't want to disturb them with my thoughts. Charlie was home as well, having left Romania that very same morning as he caught word of what the plans were for the following day. I stepped into the kitchen hoping to ease my thoughts with a glass of water or perhaps a butterbeer that mum keeps stashed in the pantry. As I turned on the light the first thing I saw was my second oldest brother, the brother I was closest to, sitting in one of chairs by the dining table. I was glad. If anyone could calm my worries it was Charlie.

I sat down at the table across from him, hands in front of me and just looked at him. He looked pensive and tense. With the war so close it was only natural for him to feel that way. If anything, I would think all of us looked the same in some form or another.

"Charlie?" I said leaning forward slightly in hopes of getting a glimpse of his eyes. He sat hunched forward, his face in his hands. We sat for a few moments in silence before he looked up, eyes slightly narrow and red.

"What is it Belle?" he said. I leaned back and crossed my arms. I didn't know exactly how to phrase my troubles. How could I ask him what happens if one of us dies? How do you ask _anyone_ that let alone one of your siblings whom you love more than life?

"Charlie, I'm…I'm scared. What…" I exhaled slowly, "What if…what if something happens to one of us?"

It looked as if this was a question he had known I would ask and was dreading that moment. Perhaps he already knew I _would_ ask. Regardless, he closed his eyes, leaned back and sighed. There was no easy way to answer that question, I knew, especially with what was going to happen in less than twenty-four hours. He opened his eyes again and opened his mouth. His head shook slightly.

"I don't know what to tell you Bell. Some people will die, some won't. I can't tell you everything will be fine because it won't be. I won't lie to you and tell you that we'll all make it out okay, you deserve better than that. All any of us can really do is hope for the best and fight your damn hardest." He said getting up. Silently, I shook my head incredulously. That was the advice he was giving me? Fight my damn hardest and hope for the best? That didn't answer my question at all.

Approximately four steps away from the exiting the doorway was when I felt myself turning from my seat to call out to him again.

"But...Charlie-"

"Honestly Arabella," he said turning around swiftly "I don't know. All right? I don't. Does that make you feel any better?" Slightly taken aback, I shook my head no. My mouth opened as to reply that, no, it doesn't but- ", so don't bloody expect me to tell you that everything's going to be fine. It won't be. Some of us will die. You shouldn't _expect _any less. It's war! We won't make it out of this okay."

My eyes watered. I knew he was right. There was no way I could go into this war thinking that everyone I knew would be alright when it was over, but I didn't want to acknowledge that.

"Charlie, we have to make it out of this okay. We _have _to!" I argued getting to my feet. Irrational as I knew my statement was, the only thing I wanted at that point was some comfort. Perhaps, I was pushing my luck and knew that this wasn't a proper conversation for the circumstance, but for some reason I kept going. I don't know why, but I did. I couldn't stop. "If something happens to one of us, it doesn't matter who, if something happens to you or Fred or George or Mum and Dad or Gin or Bill, any of us, I don't know what I'd do. Tell me that we will. Just…please?"

At this point I didn't care that I was crying. I didn't care that I was sniffling, or that I was begging or groveling or whimpering for something that he couldn't promise me at all. I just wanted him to tell me that things would work out like the way he used to do. Like when I was a kid afraid of the dark and he would tell me that nothing would come to harm me, that he would protect me cause he was my knight in shining armor and there was nothing he wouldn't protect me from. Even though in the back of my mind I knew he couldn't.

"Damnit Arabella. I can't! If one of us dies, then we die. I can't control that. Neither can you. All right? So just stop already. I don't need this right now." He snapped as he turned around again dropping his voice as if talking to himself, mumbling. In that instance he probably hadn't noticed I got up after him, "If anything if either of us dies at least then I wouldn't have to listen to your nonsense anymore. At least then you'd finally shut up." I halted abruptly and watched him exit the kitchen and walk up the stairs again to his room. After all these years I had no idea that _that_ was how he saw me. It stung, hearing that whenever I asked him for help or advice, to him it was just some silly little girl's worthless problems. Perhaps he was right. Maybe all my little worries were just that: me being a silly little girl. Maybe it _was_ time for me to grow up.

I walked back up to my room, the one I shared with Ginny, slowly and silently. As I gradually closed the door I noticed, she hadn't moved since I went down. Perhaps, I thought leaning over her and wiping hair away from her forehead to kiss it goodnight, I should've been like Ginny, she had the right idea back in her second year, though I was scared for her life and wished to Merlin she just had a regular blank book, she wrote down all of her problems into that little black diary. Perhaps I should've done that. Instead I wasted my entire life telling my problems to someone who really wasn't interested at all. Then again, maybe I am like Ginny in that respect. I only hoped that when tomorrow came Charlie wasn't the one who tried to curse me.

Hours later…

Everyone was running. Curses were flying every which way. Screams, taunts, jeers, cries, and explosions filled the air. Mum was off with McGonagall guarding the castle from the main front. Dad and Kingsley were off on the astronomy tower alongside Remus and Tonks. Fred was off with Percy and George was off battling death eaters. I wish I knew whom it was I was fighting, who was willingly trying to murder people just for who their ancestors are. But I'll never know, and perhaps it was better this way. I'd never have to know whose parent he or she was, whose friend, whose sibling. What if this person had brothers like I did? A sister? What if they had children like my siblings or me? Whose family did they belong to? Would they miss them? I don't think I would want to know if I were the cause of him or her not returning home.

Hexes and curses were flying out of my wand like water out of a hose, unyielding, in order to keep myself alive. At that moment, all that mattered to me was protecting myself, and my family if I somehow ran into them, when different hexes were hurled my way. Then I heard him. _One hour Harry Potter, _in my head. He wanted Harry to give himself up? Like hell that would happen.

Then all the death eaters were gone, retreating under order of their master. Their _lord. _I ran up the staircases. I needed to find someone. Needed George or Fred, Mum, Dad, Ginny, anyone. I needed to know they were okay. Running over rubble and debris, I passed mangled bodies everywhere and their loved ones mourning over them. Every single body I passed I tried to make sure hadn't had ginger hair while still trying to locate my family. I prayed to Merlin that a Weasley wasn't one of the bodies lying on the ground. And as that thought ran through my head, I saw them. Huddled around someone on the ground, a casualty of war. In the back of my mind I knew who it was. There was only one person missing other than Ron, but I knew he was with Harry. No, the person on the stretcher lying on the cold stone floor was the one person whom I promised everything would turn out okay. I promised. It couldn't have been him. _I promised._

I stepped closer. Tears clouded my vision. No. Not him. Never him.

"Fred." I whispered, or perhaps sobbed, out quietly. "Fred?"

"Belle-" George started but, once gaining my attention, started sobbing in earnest. He grabbed and squeezed me tightly to his chest and I grabbed back. I felt his sobs wracking him. "Tell me he's okay," he pleaded "Tell me it's just a prank and he'll wake up and laugh and tell us we're being wankers. Please? Please tell me he's joking. Tell me he's not _gone_." I wanted to so badly. But I couldn't even speak. I sobbed and cried and bawled and shook and held onto the only twin I had left. I knew then nothing would be the same.

I let go of George and he latched onto Ron as he ran up behind us. I kneeled down next to my brother. My twin brother whose laugh lit up the entire room even when it was a joke meant against one of us. My twin brother who, when compared to George, always said "I'm the funnier half" or occasionally "I'm the better looking half" even as that was George's comeback, even though they looked just about exactly the same, other than a mole on the neck and an ear gone missing. My twin brother who, after this moment, would never again tell me that I needed to loosen up or that he and George invented something new. My twin brother, my wonderful, funny, sweet older brother, who would never speak, or laugh, or cry ever again, was gone.

On my knees with the remainder of my family, I grabbed his cold lifeless hand and sobbed. My brother was gone.

The war ended and we won. But it was a bitter success. Remus was gone. Tonks was gone. Fred was gone. So many people were _gone._ Dead. Never to be seen again. There wasn't very much I wanted to celebrate over. George didn't speak to me anymore. He didn't speak to anyone. He shut himself into their…_his_…room and hadn't come out. Mum won't stop crying. She cries when she cooks, when she cleans. She cries when she tries to smile and its breaks every heart that's there to witness it. We were all grieving.

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't talk to Charlie. I was scared to. Unloading all of my problems onto him didn't seem like a very good idea, especially right now. If I went to talk to him, I didn't want him to tell me that it should've been me in Fred's place, even if I knew it wasn't something he was likely to do. Then he wouldn't have to deal with my nonsense, right?

I walked into the room I shared with Ginny, which then included Hermione. Ginny was out with Harry, Hermione with Ron, so I was able to grieve by my lonesome, which honestly was the way I preferred it. Walking over to my bed, I sagged into the mattress, tears once more falling freely from my eyes. About to fall gladly into depression, something shined into my eye and, for some odd reason a quote from some muggle television show my old Hogwarts roommate had watched once before popped into my head. "One of the many similarities between girls and fish is that they're both attracted to shiny things." Proving the quote right, I gave into temptation and picked up the little trinket from underneath Mione's makeshift bed across the room. It was a gold trinket attached to a golden chain. It was circular and had an hourglass connected right in the center. I knew exactly what it was.

I was so lost in thought I didn't hear anyone come up to the doorway behind me.

"Arabella?" Percy said almost inaudibly from the doorway. I turned quickly and hid the time turner behind my back. "Mum says we have to get ready. The funeral service is in an hour. Hermione and Ginny have already finished." He choked out. Percy was more withdrawn since the war ended, believing Fred's death to be his own fault, even if no one else believed it. His eyes were still red. I imagine all of ours were.

The only thing I managed to do was nod, holding the cold piece of gold in my hands crossed behind me. Turning around after he was sure to be gone, I walked to my bed and hid it beneath my pillow. Somehow, I knew I'd be using it later on. Opening the wardrobe I pulled out the only black dress I owned. It was form fitting and ended right above my knees. Appropriate for a funeral, for any _other_ funeral. But not Fred's. Fred deserved better than a stuffy funeral with black dress robes and tears. I wanted to make myself look the way I knew he'd want me to. Staring in the mirror I tried to. I tried to smile and laugh because I knew that's what Fred would've wanted. He'd always said that at his funeral he wanted us to celebrate the life he had. He wanted fireworks and firewiskey and, most of all he wanted laughter.

But I couldn't do it. I couldn't even smile. All I could do was grimace into the mirror at what I was trying to do and cry and wish to Merlin he'd come back. I wanted to give Fred the funeral he deserved but black was the only color that fit our emotions. Without Fred it seemed that way. _How could I celebrate your life, Fred, when you only had twenty years of it? You never had enough time. _

So I wore that black dress. The only thing I knew that would make this event slightly better in Fred's eyes was putting on the bracelet he made me when we were twelve. Our second year he made me a bracelet to show me he loved me because he always went off with George and knew I felt left out. "Because I know how you feel, Belle and I don't want you to. This is to show you you'll always be involved. Because the pranks we play and the jokes we tell are to make _you_ smile and laugh. Always. I love you." He said slipping it onto my dainty twelve-year-old wrist. It was a charm bracelet. It was a simple thin piece of soft leather with little loops to fit charms he'd carve from tiny stones he picked up by the Black Lake and, as years passed later learned to transfigure. Transfiguration was always his best subject, and so, magically made tiny prank objects ornamented the leather strap. A tiny dung bomb, sugar quills, nose biting teacups and other Zonkos joke products stared back at me alongside some of Fred and Georges own miniature products in small ornament form collected over the years. He'd give me one per birthday, Christmas, or whenever he and George would make a new product. There was one in the shape of a puking pastille, another in the shape of a canary cream, one shaped like an extendable ear, and many more. This bracelet was the only thing that would make me feel like Fred would want this. Even if all of us just wanted him back.

I stopped by Fre-…_George's_ room and knocked. There was only a slight rumple, but it was enough to alert me that someone was still inside. The only person _allowed_ inside. Even still, I opened the door.

"Georgie?" I said softly, peering into the doorway. He was standing solemnly in front of the mirror, both hands pressed against the glass, wearing Fred's black dress robes. Throat constricting slightly, I felt like I couldn't articulate what I needed to say to him. "George? It's time to go." Walking slowly up to him cautiously like I would scare him away if I moved too quickly, I placed my hand on his shoulder tentatively. "Are you ready?"

He snapped around, glaring so furiously I felt my heart break all over again. "Am I _ready_?" He repeated angrily. "Did you really just ask me if I was _ready_? How…," tears pooled in his eyes. "You don't _get_ it. You'll _never _get it. You weren't like us. All you ever cared about was making the grades and following the rules. You never cared that we dropped out, that we followed our dreams. All you cared about was making sure we didn't make a fool out of _you_." Shaking my head, I tried to tell him that _no _of course that wasn't what I had wanted. He pushed passed me as if to walk out the door and leave me behind, out of his life forever. But not before he turned around swiftly and said, "You weren't even there. When the wall exploded, you were nowhere. He wasn't only _my _twin. I was there for him. I ran to him, I _felt_ it. Where were _you_?"

I opened my mouth to respond, tears streaming once again down my face as I tried to find some way to answer him, but he cut me off.

"Exactly," he said. "You think I don't know what you promised him? I look exactly like him. We have a connection. Not only that, he _told me_ what you promised him. That everything would be okay. That we'd all be fine? Did you not mean to include him? Why is it that _he_ was the one to die? You weren't anywhere near us. It should've been _you. _You're the one we could all live without."I froze, his words slapping me in the face. My eyes darted up to meet his, though vision completely blurred by tears. How could he say that? I didn't know that this would happen. I _prayed_ that we'd all be okay. How could he think that I wanted this to happen?"It should've been you." He repeated quietly, surely, and walked out the door. I sank down, my knees no longer being able to support my body. My arms clamped around me in attempt to hold myself together. It felt like my entire life was falling apart. _You're the one we could all live without. _Charlie implied it, and now George said it. The two people I had left that I loved more than anything were the ones to tell me this. _It should've been you._ Maybe they were right.

I stumbled down the hall back to my room and pulled the time turner out from underneath the pillow on my bed. They were _right_. And I had the ability to make everything better. I could bring Fred back and set everything right. Fred was the kind of person who you'd never forget and George couldn't be George without Fred. Arabella on the other hand, Arabella Weasley could be erased and forgotten; the pain would be easier to bear than Fred being gone forever. How could I be so selfish to stay here, when I could bring him back? Quickly, I pulled open the top drawer of my dresser and pulled out 2 spare vials. I talked with Dumbledore once about memories and how one could remove them from pulling them out of their minds or from their tears and preserve them in vials. Capping it, I put the tubes into my bag and slid the time turner around my neck and turned it.

One turn. Two turns. Three turns. Four turns. I closed my eyes. Five turns. Six turns. Seven turns. Eight turns. And I was there. Standing in my bedroom, jeans and t-shirts strewn across the floor, bed unmade, days previously.

The battle was just beginning. I ran down the stairs of the empty burrow. Everyone was already at Hogwarts. The wards were broken down so I apparated to outside the room of requirements. **(A/n: Yeah, that's probably not true, but just for this story, the wards were down and there are different laws to time in this too, but you'll figure that out along the way.)** I knew exactly where I would be so I hid in the shadows avoiding hexes and curses and rushed to where I knew I'd be then. I hurried down passed the Great Hall wand in hand, avoiding falling rubble, and blasts of light being thrown back and forth. I ran through the corridors, one after the other, passed an alcove and ran down the hall. I lifted my wand once I saw my self and a death eater falling instep behind me or better said, her. "Stupefy!" I called out, knocking the death eater unconscious. Realizing that that was how I had gotten away the first time I knew that things were going to be fixed as long as I got her attention. I ran closer. My past self turned and I stared myself in the eye and she walked over cautiously. Pulling my memory out of my head, I let it fall into the vial before capping it and pulling out the other vial and pulling off my bracelet. Time was running out. I handed her the vials and bracelet, with tears and angst, a tremor in my voice, "It can't be Fred. Go to him, apparate him to George. The wards are down so you can. Then go back and move Percy away. It. Can't. Be. Fred. Okay? Give these to Fred and tell him to keep the bracelet but give the vials to Percy," I said looking pointedly at the vials "Only Percy. He needs to know it's not his fault. You use the other. You know how. You know why. Now do it." I smiled sadly at her and grasp her hands holding the vials. "We're disposable." She hasn't said anything yet, but I can see in her eyes, _my eyes_, she understands what she needs to do. Slinking back into the shadows I hide, and wait for my lifeline to end. It won't be long now. I can feel it.

Minutes later and I'm gone.

* * *

><p>Arabella ran as fast as she could. There were only minutes until she could prevent whatever happened, from happening. If it weren't important, she knew she wouldn't have come back. Belle knew that if Moody were here she would've been berated for trusting a lookalike, if she survived the exchange, but she knew it was herself. No one else knew of the charm-bracelet her future-self wore around her wrist besides herself, Fred, and George, and the only time she would wear such a thing was during occasions involving the three of them. The black dress robes and the cryptic message helped none and Belle knew she had to fix whatever it was that was going to happen. She knew of all her family members, she was the least connected. She knew she never meshed very well with the twins and wasn't as close to the family as the rest. If she had to compare herself to any of her siblings, she would have to say she was most like Percy in the way she wanted to branch herself off and prove herself worthy of being more than the older Weasley girl from a big family. The only difference was that she idolized Charlie and wanted to prove herself stronger than just a frail little girl everyone expected her to be. But she loved her family more than her life, and if she came back to the past to tell herself that something was to happen to Fred, she knew what she had to do. So she ran.<p>

She apparated to where she knows Fred and Percy will be, where they were assigned. Percy was saying something and Fred's eyes were raised in incredulousness, his eyes filling with mirth and humor. As fast as she could she got to him, wrapped her arms around him, not letting him say or do anything, and disapparated, her last sight of Percy staring back at them in disbelief. When they arrived to where George was battling, Belle loosened her grip, but kept Fred tight in her grasp. George saw them and as he knocked out one death eater began heading their way. Arabella knew that if George got to them she'd never be able to do what she had to, and she would not, _could not_ let that happen. So, at five foot eight inches, Arabella was a whole seven inches shorter than her twin, but she kept her grip tight, and forced him to look at her.

"Belle what the hell was that? Percy needs backup, you can't just do-"She cuts him off, tears once more dripping down her face and struggles to say her last words to him.

"I love you Fred. It can't be you." Tears were falling faster than ever and she knew that she had to get back for Percy. She knew how to pull her memories out, Dumbledore taught her how last term. "P-Please, give…g-give th-these vi-vials to P-Percy, _only_ Percy. Don't look at them. Don't let anyone else. I love you, s-s-so much. Tell everyone else I l-l-love them. Tell George I love him." She grabs him into another hug and he grasps her tight in confusion "I love you both _so much_. I'm sorry. So sorry." she sobs out a whisper, pulls him down to kiss his cheek, let's go and, as quickly as she could she put it into the empty glass vial takes the other out. She hands him the vials and the bracelet in her last quick embrace and apparates away leaving him behind.

She appears once more with a pop before Percy, disarms him, and pushes him away and out of the way. He falls to the ground and she lifts her wand at him begging with her eyes to stay down and safe. He shakes his head in disgust his eyes filling with hatred and disbelief. "I never knew you of all people could be a traitor."

More tears fall down her face as she lowers the wand down to her side and shakes her head. She had seconds left. "I'm not. I swear. I love you Percy. It was never your fault. Tell mum and everyone I love them. Please. I love you, Perce." She looks despairingly at him once more, his form blurred in her vision, for the very last time. "Bye Percy." Arabella looks up to her left, just as the wall blasts before her, and then there's no more. Arabella Weasley was no more.

* * *

><p>The rubble and debris blasts and flies in every which direction and Percy covers his head from the flying bits only narrowly avoiding massive chunks of concrete, some scarping his skin and cutting through his robes. As soon as he gets his bearings, he jumps to his feet and attempts to find his sister's form somewhere amongst the rubble, removing large pieces of stone from various positions across the floor. "Ara-" he says hurriedly on his knees, panic settling on his face. "ARA" he calls out using the nickname he, and he alone, bestowed upon her when she was a mere infant. The endearment, foreign on his tongue as he only used her formal name since he had begun his Hogwarts education, is called out sporadically as he tries, in vain, to locate her. His wand he finds first, and, though he knows it won't work, he's running out of patience and is frightful of what he'll find, <em>if<em> he finds her, tries to accio her form to him. He prays to Merlin she's still alive. _Please, please let her be alive_. _Please let her be _okay. From the corner of his eye he sees a limp arm and disarrayed hair from underneath a large piece of cement lying in the left corner of the area and rushes to lift the stone off of her frail body, knowing right off his prayers and pleas were left unheard.

She's bent and broken and bloody, but she's peaceful. Percy, unconcerned of his unsteady hands, shaking body, and wet face, pushes the blood-covered hair from her face. Her arm lies limply by her head, her leg bent at an awkward and painful angle yet her face, though tear stricken and eyes open, unsmiling, yet somehow, serene.

"Percy! Perce where are you?" he faintly hears, but he's focused on not letting go of his baby sister in front of him. Maybe, he irrationally thinks, if he holds her like he used to, comforts her like he did when they were children, _cared _for her as he once did, she'd come back to him and everything would be okay. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He murmurs and repeats into her hair. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Blood soaks into his clothes and through the tears staining his skin, but he doesn't care. Voices calling his name are getting closer. He soon hears the twins, not triplets any longer. Just twins. It'll only ever be the twins. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Belle…Bella? Arabella!" George …or Fred, at this point he doesn't care which is calling out to her, because she's still limp, and she's cold and getting colder, and she'll never respond to that name again. And the last thing he called her was a traitor. Percy clenches his eyes tighter together and holds her tighter against him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

One of the twins is still by the entryway staring at Percy holding their dead sister in his arms. Sagged into the cracked pillar, Percy notices he's saying something. Saying, "She knew" repeatedly. "She knew. She _knew_. _She_ knew," as if in incredulous realization. She. Knew. And then anger, "It was supposed to be _me_. Why did she take my place! Why?" and then tears, as he falls down to his knees banging his fists against the ground, "Why? Why? Why! Why!" Fred, he concludes.

Time passes and the death eaters are retreating, Percy lifts her, George and Fred clinging to each other at the loss of their twin sister, sob unashamedly, and brings her down to the Great Hall where bodies and more bodies laid out among stretchers along the floors. Their mum is there. So is their dad. Bill, Fleur, Charlie, and Ginny are all there as well. Like a family reunion his sister will never again be a part of.

"Percy?" Molly says. She knows, but she doesn't want to. The family moves closer, but Percy walks to an empty stretcher, places her down gently, and moves her hair from her face, gently stroking her cheek. _My baby sister_ he thinks as he continues to cry. _I'm so, so sorry._ And Molly wails. Ginny runs up to her sister's body, grabs her hand falling to the floor beside Percy and sobs. Molly embraces her from behind, both sobbing over the loss. Bill buries his face in his wife's hair as she strokes his and whispers words of comfort in his ear while he clings to her, his shoulders shaking harshly. Percy stays by the ground with wet cheeks and a heavy heart staring down at his sister. George and Fred cling to each other feeling as though their hearts, right through the center, were ripped in two; for those two halves of their hearts, in their minds, were Belle's and the other half traded between each other.

Charlie, consumed with guilt and disbelief and heartache, clings to himself, breathing heavily._ No. Not Bella. Not _Bella_. _His sight blurs, he's shaking, and he can't breathe. Their father grabs his shoulder and turns him toward him, and for the first time in a very long time, Charlie breaks down. _Not Bella. Not Bella. Not Bella._ His last conversation with her burned into his mind. _If anything if either of us dies at least then I wouldn't have to listen to your nonsense anymore._ _At least then you'd finally shut up. _He clings to his father tighter, shakes his head, and sobs freely into his shoulder. _Congratulations Charlie. Are you happy now?_ He wasn't. Not in the slightest._ Not Bella. Not Bella. Not Bella_.

The night after the battle has come, and the Weasley family congregates in the living room of the burrow, grieving the loss of a sister, a daughter, a confidant, and a friend. No one speaks for none of them have any words to say, all of them still too shocked to come to terms that one of their own was gone. Molly's quiet sobs are muffled by Arthur's shoulder while Ginny leans into her mother's side, Fred and George still feeling the torturous grip of loss squeezing what is left of their hearts; Percy feeling lost and guilty believing he could've saved her while Bill sits with Fleur burying his face in her long blond locks. Ron curls into himself, Hermione by his side, cocooning him in her arms to his right, while Harry sits to his left also to Ginny's right, rubbing her back gently, gripping her hand tight. Charlie, however, still shakes with loss, his mind reeling with the revelation and guilt over the occurrence of Arabella's death.

Dinner was not served that night. Molly, too distraught to cook, had sat down in the same spot she sits in for hours, hoping that one minute passing, her eldest daughter will run down the stairs looking for a jumper, or shoe, _something, _just so she feels the familiar sense that she's _there_ somewhere, _alive._ But she's not. And Molly's sobs continue.

The war had come and gone. The night following had come and gone, and some more nights after that, and now the Weasley family prepares for the funerals of the fallen, the dearly beloved. Remus was gone, Tonks was gone, Mad-eye was gone, and so was Arabella. The Weasley family was grieving once again, only at a different point of time and history. As they watch each coffin lowered into the ground, sympathetic words being said for each fallen soldier, gone before their time, they cling to the memories associated with each friend gone. They leave the cemetery, red hair usually full and vibrant and filled with life, now dull and formal and as dreary as their moods, black dress robes shuffling out one by one, their shoes sinking into the damp dewy grass. Each individual left thinking this shouldn't have happened, _not to them, _not to Tonks, not to Remus, not to Arabella. But it had, and it wasn't going to change. Not this time.

Each Weasley, both honorary and blood related, all except for the one, now gone and buried, apparated back to the Burrow. Congregating in the living room amongst the sofas and large armchairs adorning the room, Mrs. Weasley trying to attempt optimism, still stifling her sobs, rushes to the kitchen preparing to feed her guests. "w-w-would a-any-one l-li-like s-s-some more?" Not one person tries to fake their hunger to appease her, for all of them were still understandably melancholy from the past events. Just then, as Molly once more moves towards the kitchen to prepare more servings for the group of depressed individuals scattered throughout her home, Fred recalls the vials Arabella had given him before she…passed.

_P-Please, _she said _give…g-give th-these to P-Percy, _only_ Percy. Don't look at them. Don't let anyone else. I love you, s-s-so much. Tell everyone else I l-l-love them. Tell George I love him._

"Perce," Fred says, catching each of his family's attention, "she…she left something for you." He reached into his pockets, keeping the vials on his person just to feel the connection of her, to feel that he still had something left that she gave to him even if it wasn't _for_ him, pulling them out and reaching out to hand them to his older brother, "She said only you…only you could look at them."

Percy, oblivious to what was in his brother's grasp still not reaching for them, asks, ashamedly "Why? Why would she give them to _me?_ Wouldn't she have given them to you, o-or George, or Charlie? Anyone really. Why would she leave them for me? I don't even know what they _are_!" Percy did not feel as if he deserved them. To him, he _let _her die. Why should he have that right? Fred just continues staring at him, not giving him an answer. Everyone else in the room stares at the two also questioning why she left something, something prominent contained in two small vials, for _Percy_, yet not for the ones she was closest to.

Just then Harry voices the much-desired information, "They're memories. You need a pensieve to look at them, but they're her memories. I had to look at Snape's during the battle. Professor Dumbledore's during sixth year."

George, feeling slightly betrayed stands up angrily, "Fred and I should get to look at it. We're her twins! Why should Percy be the only one to? That's not fair!" His twin, no longer a triplet, shook his head in disagreement.

"It's_ for_ Percy. She left them for him. She said 'give them to Percy. Only Percy. Don't look at them, don't let anyone else.' I'm just doing what she asked of me. It's the least I could do after…after what she did for _me_." He continues, eyes once again filling with the tears he's _so tired_ of having to shed. In Fred's mind he shouldn't have to because she should still be here. _If she were here, none of us would have to cry. _

"No! If it was something she left behind we should all get to see it. It shouldn't just be for one of us. She was our family too!" Ginny speaks up, the volume of her words also raising in anger, always the most opinionated aside from Percy. Arguments arise whether or not they should all know the message or not. Fred adamant they not, George adamant they do. Charlie not believing he had the _right_, not after what he had done, and Ginny and Ron fighting for the opportunity to see the one thing she left behind.

"If it's a message from her than we all have a right to hear it. I'm her mum! It's my right!" Molly says vision blurred by tears, tone hysterical, desperate to hear and see why her daughter would leave behind something so important as a memory.

"She was our twin! Maybe she had a reason for this. Maybe she's telling Percy, maybe well find out _why! _Fred, we _have_ to." Says George not wanting to believe Arabella died for one of them, but wanting to believe that she shouldn't have at all.

"If it's her goodbye we should all hear it, just for peace of mind," Bill states wanting, at the very least, some closure for his little sister's death.

"I think it's for the best, "says Arthur, not wanting to go against his daughters last wish, yet at the same time, wanting to hear and see why she would do such a thing, why she would decide to leave her thoughts and memories behind.

Ron says, "If she left something to say she has to let us know right? Plus, it's only fair, that we all do. Perce is a prat why'd she just leave something for him?" Feeling like it wouldn't be fair for her to leave something only for Percy, perhaps because Percy worked inside the ministry he would know something about wills and testimonies that that was the reason she had left it behind for him. To Ron, he feels as though perhaps she left something meaningful to explain why she left them the way she did. Why would his big sister leave them like that? Right when they could've all been together without fearing for their lives just for the fact that they liked muggles. The war was over; they were all safe, why did she not move when she pushed Percy away? Maybe in her memories she could let them know _why_.

Voices all blending together, Harry, Hermione, Fleur, Remus and Tonks all sit in living room watching the usually tightknit family struggle and scream over whether or not each had the right to view something personally left for one of their own. In the end it's Percy voices that carries over the bunch, "Enough!" silence over comes the group and he sighs, "You're right. I shouldn't be the only one to watch this. She wasn't only my sister, she was yours too, Bill, Charlie, George, Fred, Ron, Ginny, she was just as much my sibling as she was yours. She was your daughter," he says looking at their mum and dad, "I don't…I don't have the right to keep this from you, even if she had left them to me." He sets the vials down onto the wooden coffee table located in the center of the room surrounded by the array of large sofa, armchairs, rocking chair and fireplace.

Ron, still grasping Hermione's hand from their seat on the floor, says, "So it's decided then. We all watch it." All the Weasley's nod, each staring at the small bottles as if expecting them to begin playing on their own. "So who watches it first?"

It's Bill who speaks up first, "I think Perce should, she left them for him after all, he should at least get that right," to which they all agree, "next mum and dad, then Charlie, then the the trip- the _twins_- "

"No." Fred interrupts. Everyone in the room looks at tall red headed boy seated next to his lookalike in shock. There wasn't much Fred was ever willingly to do without his carbon copy, this being one special circumstance. "No. I want to watch it alone."

Nodding slowly, George fully agrees and says softly, "Me too. I'll watch it after Forge."

"Okay," Bill continues, "After George, Ron, then Ginny. Harry, Hermione, you guys are after."

They both disagree, however, feeling as though they did not share in the right to see what Arabella left behind. They weren't family. Why should they be able to share in the memory? Arthur leaves the room to retrieve the old pensieve, which he had been tinkering with for years attempting and succeeding in making it useable again, and moves it into Percy's bedroom, as he was the one to watch it first.

One after the other they leave the room as the person prior returns, each to take their turn to watch the one thing Arabella left behind. Percy leaves first. He walks up the creaking stairs, passing the girl-_Ginny's_ room and pauses. Swallowing harshly once, stares into the room. Still as she left it, her covers still array from tossing and turning, clothes lying at the foot of the bed, nothing has changed in that respect, the realization bringing back more tears to his eyes. _Everything's changed._ Turning quickly he forces his gaze away from the room. Eyes clenched tightly, he breathes heavily and continues on up more creaking stairs. Once outside his door he pushes it open, steps inside, and there it is. Right in the center of the room, to the right of his bed stands the pensieve, the vials clenched in his hands. One foot after the other: one step, two steps, three steps. He's in front of it. Unsure of what he's going to see, his palms begin to sweat. Questions arise in his mind; _why would she leave them to _me? _What did she have to show me? Why?_ He pours the memory in. Breathes in once more and dips his head in.

Downstairs the others wait in anticipation for the third eldest Weasley son to walk back down for each of the rest could have their turn to watch. Minutes later they hear footsteps once more walking down the creaking stairs. Anxious, each of them looks towards the open doorway to see Percy reappear but he doesn't. Ginny worriedly looks at her mother who shakes her head silently saying _he'll come when he's ready. _They hear a pause on the steps, a sudden slump of a body flopping down, and great heavy sobs. Right then they know, whatever Percy had seen, wasn't going to be anything they'd want to see. Not at all. Not ever. Not for this.

His figure appears into the doorway, the only sounds in the room aside from his heavy breathing and sniffles and the small metronomes' clicks from the family grandfather clock. He's distraught, looking at his family as lost as he felt. His gaze falls onto the twins and he crumples once more. Ginny arises, letting go of Harry's hand to comfort her older brother. Wrapping her arms around him she hears his mumbled hysterical sobs against her shoulder. "Not her, not her, not her, not her." Percy, after watching her memories, saw why she left them for him. To show him it _wasn't_ his fault either way, the wall would have exploded and one of them would've gone. But Percy still did not understand why it had to be her. Why couldn't she just have gotten them both out of the way and allowed herself to live as well. But he also remembered what George had said to her, or _would've said to her_, and what Charlie said to her and understood why she felt she must. Overcome with grief, he stays in his sister's arms, the only sister he has left, and cries.

After seeing their brother's reaction to whatever it is that he'd watched Bill, Ron and Ginny both internally decide not to peer into her memories. Not believing they could handle whatever it was if Percy, the Weasley most detached from the family, could completely break after what he had seen. Instead, they decide that their family needs them more than their need to watch what was left behind, their curiosity.

Molly and Arthur, staring sadly and lost at their son cocooned in his youngest sister's arms, grasp tightly onto each other's hand and get up. Walking over to Percy, Molly bends down and pushes the hair off of the distressed boys forehead, kisses it, and with tears dropping onto his forehead, whispers, "I love you." And together with Arthur ascend the stairs, each there to offer the other the moral support only a spouse could give. After all, no parent should have to bury their child before their time.

From their seats in the living room they could hear Molly's wails echoing throughout the house over Percy's own. Each remaining sibling now dreading their turn unsure of what they were going to see. Percy too distraught to answer their questions if they'd ask sat in his mother's spot on the sofa, head in hands, full body quaking with depression and sadness. Charlie, fearful, guilty, and heartbroken, is next. Arthur reappears in the doorway without his wife; Molly seeming to have ran to their bedroom, tears gathered in his eyes. The eldest of the Weasley clan present refuses to let the drops fall believing his family needed his comfort first. His needs would come later. Similarly, this was Arabella's mindset as well, going back.

Arthur walks up to Charlie places his hand on his shoulder, and as Charlie glances at his father, pulls his son into his arms and allows him to sob. Knowing that what was said to his daughter was not heartfelt and meaningful, but instead said out of anger and stress over possibly the battle and _something_ else, he feels no need to blame his son anymore than he already blames himself. Moments later, Arthur lets go of his son, and whispers tearfully to him, "it will be okay." Charlie wraps his arms around himself, exhales deeply, eyes clouded and brimmed, sniffs, and walks up the stairs.

Taking the same path as the three before him he stumbles his way up, passes his sister's room, also glancing inside but after a few moment, is no longer able to see her bed and belongings knowing that she herself is gone, continues up to Percy's. Along the way however he spies a photograph along the wall. He stops to look at it. Gazing at his families faces he smiles remembering the joy they all felt during that time so long ago. All of them were smiling at the camera and waving. The entire family is wearing Egyptian headdresses in front of the pyramids, Arabella standing in front of him smiling and waving with one hand, the other holding his arm wrapped around her gripping her left shoulder as he leaned above her also waving and hugging his sister to his chest. Charlie sobs a smile, remembering how much fun she had on that trip, laughing at how Fred and George tried to trap Percy inside a tomb, wanting to explore all the curses with Bill and the magical beasts with him, helping Ginny find new dresses, and wandering around exploring by herself. "We need to come back again. Oh please Charlie!" she said to him eagerly, even at the age of fifteen already wanting to be like him and explore different countries. He remembers how he promised her they'd go back, before she began training if she wanted to come to Romania with him. He promised. Charlie sobs again, his fingers slide down from the frame as he continues up to Percy's room. Walking up to the pensieve, he watches. He watches her talking to Fred about the battle, about how scared Fred was and how she promised him they'd be okay just to calm him down and realizes that was what she wanted. Just to be reassured. He watches as she sits in the kitchen after he received the notification of his "release." He watches as she hears him murmur that if one of them dies, at least he wouldn't have to listen to her problems any longer and feels the pangs of regret over again. He never meant those words, never meant for her to hear, saying them only out of stress and anger and frustration and never once did he mean to take it out on his sister. But he had and he watches more as she takes them to heart and as Fred dies, and George, in the heat of his heartache, lashes at her as well. He watches as the mixed words of her brothers convinces her of doing what she believes needs doing. He watches fearfully as she throws herself back into the dangers of the battle and then he watches as there's two of her. He watches as she tells herself that it can't be Fred, and it's not Percy's fault. He watches painfully as she calls herself disposable, a word so disgustingly untrue to her character. He watches as she apparates Fred away from Percy and as she sees George running towards them, tells Fred she loves him and that it can't be him. And he watches as she hands Fred the vials and says only Percy, and that she loves them, all of them, and she's sorry. That she of all people is sorry. And the memory ends, and he's back in Percy's room, and he's crying again, because it's his fault. He made her believe it should've been her. When she wanted comfort he shoved her away and told her basically if any of them should die, it would shut her up, even if he didn't mean it. That was what she remembered, and that was why she went back. That was why she died. It was his fault. How could his father tell him it would all be okay? With an even heavier heart he leaves the room and makes his way back down, clawing at the wall on his way down, bawling all the while. He enters the living room and, as Fred begins to make his way past him, Charlie quickly grabs him into a hug and into his ear whimpers and sobs, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." Clutching at his older brothers form, Fred turns his face into the shoulder of Charlie's dress robes confused, and cries seeing his distraught form before letting go and making his way up the stairs. Watching him go, Charlie can only pray that he's forgiven and feels a hand grab his shoulder, and once more comes face to face with his father. Again, Charlie is welcomed into his father's arms, as a child seeking comfort in a time of pain; comfort only a parent can give.

Fred walks up the stairs knowing that whatever he is going to watch will be unpleasant. He reaches the girl's room and pauses. _Arabella knew what was going to happen, and she wasn't wearing her bracelet into battle, so how did she get it? _He thinks as he peers inside. Unlike his brothers and his parents, he steps cautiously inside, tremors running through his body as he sees the unmade bed and things on the floor, her things. He reaches her dresser, opens the first drawer, and pulls out a charm bracelet. A simple thin piece of soft leather with little loops to fit charms transfigured from tiny stones picked up by the Black Lake, charms of joke and prank products, a reminder of laughter and happy times. His sister's bracelet. The bracelet he made for her. The bracelet he had retied around her pale, cold wrist before they buried her. Fred's knees buckle and he falls down beside the dresser, clutching the bracelet in his hand, the tiny ornaments digging into his palm, but he doesn't care. He breathes deeply and erratically for a few minutes, attempting to collect himself, attempting to make sense of what had happened. He gets up slowly and makes his way out of the room shutting the door quietly, and unsteadily walks up another flight of stairs towards his brother's room. Stepping inside he walks toward the pensieve and peers in.

In the living room the rest of the family sits in silence, with only sobs and sniffles to break it. Bill still in the arms of his wife, Arthur cradles Charlie as he sobs incoherent words repeatedly into his father's shoulder. Ginny arms still wrapped around Percy, eyes still red and tears still silently falling. Ron still holding Hermione's hand on the sofa, Harry sits beside them and George anxiously waits for his turn. Eyes red, tears falling, nose sniffling, and hands wringing, he waits for Fred to come back down. And when he does, he's angry.

"How dare you?" He seethes staring at his twin.

"Wh…what?"

"You had NO right to say that to her!" George stares at him shocked and confused but Fred continues relentlessly, glaring at his twin. "She wouldn't have died if it weren't for you." George is offended and incredibly confused. How was this his fault? He was nowhere near her. He didn't blow up the wall. What did he do? Fred advances on him, fists clenching ready to physically harm his brother for what he'd done, unaware and slightly uncaring over George's confusion and discomfort at the accusations. "She'd still be _here_ if it weren't for you" he says pulling his fist back ready to attack if Charlie hadn't gotten up and restrained him, forcibly pulling him away from his brother while all of the other Weasley's present begin to stand and attempt to mediate the situation. Confused, they begin to yell above each other.

"Fred, NO!"

"George what've you done?"

"Son, calm down, he doesn't know."

"Fred, what? What're you doing? _Don't_ make me bat bogey you. Stop it!"

"Vhat iz ze meaning of zis?"

"He doesn't know what you're talking about! Fred, he hasn't watched it yet!"

"This is utterly absurd! What on Earth is he talking about? Ronald, what is happening?"

"What the bloody hell is he on about!"

All arguments go unheard to Fred except for "It wasn't his fault, Fred!" That's when he turns. He tenses, and furiously rounds on the man who's holding him restraint shoving him away and sneers fiercely, "You're right. It's _yours." _And with that Charlie's eyes begin to shed more tears and all he can say is, voice crumbling and nearly inaudible "I know."

Fred's jaw clenches, chin trembling in sadness and anger, tears of both fury and despair fill his eyes, wanting to hate his brother more so for saying what he had to Arabella but _can't. _Not afterseeing in his eyes the self-loathing already present there. Fred knows Charlie is already blaming himself, knows that Charlie is aware that if he hadn't of said what he did then Belle wouldn't have felt so worthless and replaceable. If he hadn't said what he did, then she wouldn't have felt like she had to take Fred's place if it were really his time to go.

The only thing left for Fred to say as he tries to reel in his pain is, "_Why?" _Why did Charlie say those things? Why was he so angry? What made him snap to the point where he had to emotionally pain his favorite sibling? What had happened to _Charlie?_

Everyone silences as they hear Fred's question. George, Bill, Fleur, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry all don't understand what was happening, but because of Fred's outburst begin to clue in that whatever Charlie had done, had something to do with Arabella's death. Percy and Arthur had known Charlie's emotional reason for snapping, but have yet to learn the reasoning behind his stress and anger, aside from the war that was looming over them before the argument had taken place. No one makes a sound as they listen for Charlie's explanation.

"When I heard you all were going to fight," Charlie begins looking Fred in the eye "I was-" he breathes in, exhales deeply, and looks down "I didn't know what was going to happen. Whether or not you all would be okay and I got scared. I packed my clothes and I left. I wasn't thinking about work or the dragons, I just needed to get here because I couldn't let you all go to war alone. So, I packed my things and I left. One thing I forgot to do was write an explanation to my boss." He looks up to Fred whose eyes were still partially clouded with anger, though now clearing slightly with begrudged understanding. Seeing this he continues, voice cracking as one tear falls slowly after another, "I got my letter of termination an hour before Bella came to talk to me. I was upset, and angry and I snapped. I never meant for her…I never meant any of the things I said to her. I _wish_ I hadn't said them, I wish I talked to her before the battle but I didn't" He sniffles and wipes at his eyes before proceeding, "and now she's gone."

Arthur walks towards his son to comfort him, wrapping his arm around Charlie sympathizing, and whispers in his ears as Charlie cries, "It's not your fault. It's _not_ your fault." Having realized that the reason Charlie said those things because of the fact he got fired made Fred also empathize for his older brother, but he did not want to let him go scotch free. To Fred, he should've told her that. He should have told her that he couldn't talk right now, _because_ of the likelihood he would lash out. But not being one to kick someone when they're down, and being the kindhearted prankster he was, shakes him head, tenses, and upset, angrily stalks out of the room. Just because he doesn't fully blame him, doesn't mean that he appreciates that he aided in his twin sister's self-deprecation or that he won't think of his sister's dead form whenever he sees his older brother.

They all flinch when they hear a door slam two flights above their heads soon after Fred fled the room. Charlie sits down on the evacuated space on the sofa next to his father as he pats his back in attempted comfort. Not being able to take the sympathetic looks of his family, Charlie lays his head in his hands, hiding his tear-streaked face from their view. The only sound apparent in the room continued to be sniffles and quiet sobs until George speaks up in recollection.

"He said it was my fault."

Everyone in the dimly lit room looks up at him. Percy, Arthur and Charlie all aware of what forced Fred to accuse his brother all gaze sadly at the tall, lanky, ginger. George, throat hoarse from crying, repeats, "He said it was my fault. What did _I_ do?" He says getting up to head towards the stairs to watch the memories. However, before reaching the first step Percy calls out to him.

"You didn't do it, George. Remember that. You didn't." George nods, but in the back of his mind knows that whatever happened, that sentence could finish with _but you would've. _And that made each step more painful.

As he got to his destination, not able to handle sparing a glance towards Arabella's room as his siblings before him, stares dauntingly at the pensieve below him. Fearful of what he's going to view, George takes a deep breathe and plunges his head in. He watches the conversation Fred had with Belle and her comforting words, he watches the battle, and he watches Charlie's harsh words. Wanting also to be angry, but soon after feeling the beginning flash of rage, remembers Charlie's explanation over his situation and calms. George stands still as he watches the memories continue to play out. He see's the battle with a different outcome as the one he's lived and in this it was Fred who died. His heart constricts painfully as he sees his lookalike pale and unmoving on a stretcher in the Great Hall, and it clenches tighter as he sees Arabella running up to see their twin's death and her body crumbling at the sight. To see her face fall from hope of seeing all of her family alive to utter despair and denial over her twin brother falling; it killed him inside.

Then the memory shifted and she was at the burrow. She was knocking on his door and he watches, gasping a sob, as he sees himself accusing her, blaming her, _lying to her, _and turning his back to her. All he can feel is denial and shame, even though he knows he hasn't done it. The fact that he _would've_; that the way he acted in that scenario was the way he was _going _to act, that that was how he _had_ acted in a different reality. George bawls in earnest, sobs wracking his body, having fallen to the floor after his knees gave out in shock and disgust over his actions, the actions he hasn't _acted upon_. But it is not over yet. The memories continue on, uncaring over George's emotional turmoil. He watches as she reenters the battle and finds her past self and then the memory changes once more and she's talking to…herself and telling her to get Fred away, that the vials go to Percy and the bracelet to Fred. Then he watches as she's running and finds Fred and Percy and she's apparating him away. He sees Percy's shock and disbelief in the brief second all three of them were united. She's with Fred and saving his life and she's telling him she loves him and to tell him she loves all of them and that she's sorry. She's so sorry. She hands him the memories and the bracelet and then its over. It's all over. He's back in Percy's room and he's sobbing on the floor. Now he knows why Fred's so angry, why he was accusing him. He forced her hand. He _told_ her it should've been her. How could he have said that to her?

So absorbed with what he just saw, he doesn't notice when Percy enters the room, nor when he embraces him from behind until he feels arms wrap around his shoulders and tears falling onto his head. Leaning into the embrace he sobs harder and incoherently howls, "My fault. All my fault." Understanding the guilt over abandoning family members, Percy sympathizes the feelings George is going through. As he holds his younger brother to his chest, rocking him back and forth he whispers, "no it wasn't. You didn't say it, you _didn't. _It wasn't your fault._" _The night passes, the words repeat, and the once always-gleeful ginger haired boy spends the hours until damn in the arms of his brother.

Days pass and the Weasleys no longer know how to treat each other. Molly, so heartbroken over her daughter's death tries to fill the void by cooking and avoids accepting help from her other children. The Weasley patron feels that if she makes all of Belle's favorite foods, or cleans the house in Belle's preference, maybe she'll come back and everything will be better. Though she knows that is untrue, Molly Weasley did not want to face that truth. Arthur Weasley, father to the seven other Weasley children, spent his time comforting his family, and if he was not, he was in his workshop avoiding interaction with the outside world. Muggle radios and telley-see-ers were better, he thought, they had no emotions, they could not leave you behind, they could not _die. _He did not have to worry about one of them leaving him.

Bill, after trying to help his mother and father, but failing, spent his time with Fleur. Fleur, seeing that nothing they could do helped, wants to go back to their cottage or visit her family in France. Bill decides to stay, explaining to her, "What if they need me? I don't think we should leave just yet. Mum shouldn't think she's loosing another one so quickly." Fleur understands, and ever the doting wife, stays with him.

Charlie is quiet. Unnaturally quiet. Not speaking a word in fear of driving another one of his beloved family away. Don't be mistaken, though not particularly _happy_ or even remotely _okay_, he does move about the house and is not stuck in a comatose state, and is currently looking for employment, but coming back to the burrow each day, shuts his mouth and refuses to utter a word. Percy, on the other hand, is the one attempting to mediate. Having been the one to abandon his family, he does not want to see his loved ones fall apart again, which in his mind is what is currently happening. He's trying to bring them all back together, attempting to have them interact and talk it out, but like all attempts and failures, it is slowly beginning to wears him down. But he's not giving up. Ginny no longer stays in her room, not being able to stand the sight of her sister's bed and belongings across from hers knowing she'll never again sleep there or use her things. Instead decides to spend her nights on the sofa or at Grimmauld with Harry. No longer able to look at her mother without her crying. She was not unaware that she looked like her sister, but now she dreaded the comparison. Ron spent most of his time with Hermione, who spent hers attempting to cheer him up, likewise with Harry. The golden trio spent their time together often at the back of the burrow hidden in the tall grass, away from the broodiness of the family trying to gain back their spirits, and bask in the success of their win. They're in vain.

The twins however, still are the noisiest but not for the same reasons as before. There are no more experiments or products being made. No more laughter to be had. No more pranks being played. No. Instead, Fred spends his time locked up in the twin's bedroom refusing to come out having Ginny bring up his meals and setting them outside, only getting them once she leaves. Inside the bedroom, on the left side of the slightly cramped room, he sits on his twin sized bed staring at the charm bracelet around his wrist and a worn tear stained photograph. Staring at the smiling laughing faces of himself and his twin sister playing around in the pond behind their home, the corners of his lips pulling upward as he sees himself shoved into the water by his sister and more tears fall onto the thin paper. He'll never have memories like this again.

But if Fred's isolated in his room, how are they still the noisiest, you ask? Because Fred will no longer allow George inside their room, unable to look him in the eye without seeing their deceased triplet. Most pairs of twins have one child having their mums, and one having their dads, or two having mums, or two having dads. But not them. All three of them, Belle, Fred, and George, had their Uncle Gideon's eyes. While all the other siblings had clear brown, theirs had been beautiful slightly hazel, slightly green eyes. **(A/n: I know it's not true, but it's a fanfiction, so for **_**this**_** it is.)**

Every morning at precisely 9:30, George knocks on their bedroom door, hoping for the slightest crack to leave the door ajar to allow him in. He pleads and cries, hoping for his remaining twin to _please just acknowledge that I'm here_. He gets an acknowledgement, _yes_. But is it the kind he's hoping for? Not in the slightest. Fred yells and screams back at him. Snarling, "How dare you", "Leave me alone", "I wish I never had to see you again, but I own a bloody mirror" from the other side of the door. This only makes George try harder. He's lost one twin he can't lose the other. So he pleads some more, and more, and more.

Until one day, months later, he stops.

No longer can he take the rejection from his twin. So he goes back to thei- his- flat above the shop, and he doesn't bother looking for Fred anymore. He leaves Fred's door in the flat shut, and when returning to the burrow, no longer heads up to their old bedroom trying to gain Fred's acceptance and attention. He fully knows his brother wishes not to see him.

While the rest of the family is on the road to recovery, now cherishing the moments they have together, it is Fred who refuses to acknowledge the fact. Percy helps with Weasley's Wizards Wheezes alongside George and Ron, helping make prank products and the like, while Charlie works in a dragon reserve he's located in Wales, and while George is grateful and steadily trying to move on and keep the shop in works, knows that its truly not the same without his twin sister and brother by his side.

Ten months after the battle, and the death of Arabella Weasley, George Weasley is closing up Weasley's Wizards Wheezes after another long and busy day and walking towards the farthest wall in the shop. He stares at the portrait he had commissioned to be painted hung up behind the registers towards the back of the store. He smiles sadly at his sister's youthful, beautiful face. Every night after the reopening of the shop four and a half months prior, when he locks up, he says the same thing to her always in the same tearful voice, "Hey, Bella. I miss you. So much."

She smiles back at him, same as yesterday and the day before, and says, as always, "I love you. And I know, you big lug."

As always, one tear falls, "I'm…I'm so sorry." He cries, and her smile turns fades and she has to remind to him, "It wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything. I _chose_ to do it. I don't regret it and I _don't_ blame you."

Usually, George plays along, wipes his tears and just offers a small smile, and says, "I know." But not tonight, tonight he says, "That doesn't mean _I_ don't blame me." He sighs and murmurs, "That doesn't mean _Fred _doesn't blame me"

"I don't."

Behind him, for the first time in nine months, he's seen his twin brother. For the first time in nine months, his twin is willingly talking to him. And he can't believe he's not dreaming. If not for Arabella's portrait behind him, smiling and exclaiming, "Fred! I wondered when you'd come down and see us" as George had her portrait painted five months before, he wouldn't believe he wasn't.

"I don't blame you," Fred continues voice cracking and eyes tearing up. "I don't and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry Georgie." They're both crying now, standing amidst shelves of products made for humor and joy, but neither are happy and George says nothing, still shocked at his brother's presence. "I just couldn't see you. I couldn't see you without seeing her." And there's silence.

"I didn't say it." George says offhandedly a few moments later, "You know, I…I didn't."

His brother stares at him and nods, "I know. I shouldn't have avoided you or blamed you when you did nothing wrong. You never said any of the things I accused you of, and I punished you for it, and I'm, I'm _so _sorry." George slowly nods. Just nods as if he's still slightly unaware of what is happening.

"Oi, you gits," Arabella calls out from her painting rolling her eyes playfully, "just hug and make up! I swear if I could leave this portrait I would. I didn't blow myself up for you to not talk to each other for the rest of your lives. Merlin."

Both boys chuckle turning to smile back at the portrait of their sister nailed to the wall. George looks to Fred and says, "You know, Gred, I think she should leave the jokes to us. She's not even remotely funny."

"OI!"

Fred just laughs and nods along, "You're not particularly funny either Forge, I'm the funnier half remember?" Thus beginning a long playful argument between the two back and forth between who was funnier, and who was more handsome. Arabella Weasley, however, plays with the charm bracelet adorned on her wrist, which her brother had made sure was painted, and looks lovingly from her portrait perched upon the wall in shop surrounded by laughter and glee at her twin brothers playfully bickering with one another and thinks with a smile _Yeah, everything's going to be just fine._

_Finite Incantatem. _

**A/N: Constructive criticism welcome. Reviews greatly appreciated :) Much love. Hope you liked it.**


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